


'Tis The Season

by AlfieTimewolf



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Edward the Dog but as a puppy, Established Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Family Fluff, I missed him so much, Jealous Ed, M/M, Martin just wants his family to have a Merry Christmas together, Oswald adopted Martin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlfieTimewolf/pseuds/AlfieTimewolf
Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year… Or it's supposed to be. The only problem is, Oswald and Ed aren't big celebrators, but that's all about to change now that Martin Cobblepot has entered the equation. The younger Cobblepot wants a Christmas, he's never had a proper one before, and the two criminals won't (can't) deny him this.Join the Cobblepot household as they enjoy the days leading up to Christmas together! Along with a few guests thrown in along the way.
Relationships: Martin & Edward Nygma, Martin & Victor Zsasz, Minor Oswald Cobblepot/Victor Fries, Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot & Martin, Oswald Cobblepot & Victor Zsasz, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 17
Kudos: 64





	1. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

**12 th December (13 Days ‘Til Christmas)**

Living in the expansive Van Dahl Manor was luxurious and interesting and… Dark, it was generally very dark, but that was the aesthetic of the place. It had been in the Van Dahl family for generations now, but the tasteful gothic décor was timeless, despite how gloomy it could be cast in the rare sunshine.

While Martin loved the old building - he considered it a far cry from the drab orphanage he’d come from - he still wished that there was a way that he could ask about putting some Christmas lights up, or maybe a few decorations? Oh, a tree! Not a big tree or anything, just one he could fit plenty of tinsel and lights and bobbles on.

Oswald… His dad didn’t really seem like the festive type, at all. Actually, Mr Nygma didn’t seem very festive either; at least, his Riddler side didn’t. He didn’t know if that was going to ruin the plan he’d started making or not, but he also knew that neither of them were very good at saying no to him. He didn’t try and get his way all the time, he saved it for special things.

He had been thinking about this since the end of November, how much he wanted to brighten the place up and make it a little more colourful. He’d been drawing different decorated trees, and families of snowmen, and penguins in hats & scarves, and he wanted it all so badly!

Alright, the penguins just made him happy to draw, but the rest he really wanted!

Martin knew just how busy his dad and Mr Nygma were, not just with their schemes and their plans, but also with the Iceberg Lounge - it took up a lot of time just running the place. He knew because he had his own desk in Oswald’s office; it was smallish, squarish, and mostly used for his homework, but he loved it. He reckoned the club only had decorations up due to high demand, and how much more people would be inclined to go if it had a more festive vibe to it.

Now he wondered how on earth he was going to bring up the subject of Christmas amongst the usual chaos of day-to-day life in the (predominantly) Cobblepot household, breakfast might have been a good time to bring it up, they always had breakfast together before going their separate ways; himself to school, his dad to the Lounge, and Mr Nygma to… Wherever he went, really.

He would ask Victor to drive him to the bar after school, if the person he was looking for wasn’t there, then he would leave some drawings for him to find and just head home. Olga could fix him a sandwich or something to hold him over until dinner time, or maybe some chips to munch on while he did his homework.

* * * * *

School let out at exactly 3.34pm, but Victor Zsasz had been waiting promptly at the front gates since a quarter past, wanting a prime parking space to pick up his enthusiastic little charge, who he spotted running out at 3.35pm and took less than a minute to get to the car and buckle himself in.

Martin trusted the assassin, which was why he chose to divulge his plans for the rest of the day, and why he asked to be taken to the Lounge instead of back to the Manor; he knew he’d have Zsasz’s full support - of course he did - with his plans, and the man wasted no time getting to the club.

Victor pulled up outside and decided to wait in the car while the curly haired boy hopped out and ran upstairs, waving hello to the scattered staff cleaning and setting up for the evening as he went, hoping to catch Oswald and show him his idea.

Much to his disappointment (but not disbelief), Martin pushed the heavy doors open to an empty office. He stepped in and made his way over to the large desk that dominated the far side of the room anyway, planting himself in the big plush chair and getting comfortable before starting on his drawing.

Christmas tree, check. Candy canes, check. A snowman, tinsel, and a stick reindeer? Triple check. At this stage, he was scrawling down anything and everything he could think of, ending up leaving half a dozen pages with several trees and different decorations on them littering the once neat desk - in hindsight, it hadn’t been the best state to leave it in. Satisfied with his efforts, Martin hung his notebook back around his neck and pulled out the bottom left-hand drawer, pulling out a lollipop from the stash he knew his dad kept there (he had a monstrous sweet tooth) before slamming it shut and doing the same to the office door on his way back out to Victor.

* * * * *

If Ed loved one thing, it was sending the GCPD on a wild goose chase, but sending them chasing after an actual wild goose was possibly even better. The goose could only partially fly, to give the officers at least a slight chance of catching it. Why would they want it? Excellent question. The aggressive waterfowl had evidence and a riddle attached to it, but they had to be quick before it reached the edge of the city and dove into the docks; they wouldn’t just be losing some evidence, it would also be a waste of a good riddle, but incompetence was really out of his control.

Something Ed didn’t particularly love was receiving text messages that were rather blunt with no elaboration, or little-to-no explanation. He received such a message as he sat in front of CCTV screens that showed different streets across Gotham, long legs propped up on the desk as he observed the officers’ struggles from a comfortable vantage point.

‘ _We need to talk._ ’ his own aggressive bird had messaged him a little after four, which immediately snagged his attention away from the monitors.

Oh dear, had he done something? Or not done something? He hadn’t forgotten anything, surely. He hadn’t missed a lunch date, they had those together on Wednesdays and Saturdays. He went with Zsasz on Fridays to pick up Martin from school to spend time with him, usually either helping him with homework or enjoying a board game together while they waited for Oswald to get home.

‘ _Is something wrong???_ ’ Ed finally responded after a few minutes, still racking his brain quietly to himself, occasionally muttering aloud an explanation but would tut soon after at the wrong answer.

As the seconds ticked by into minutes, the former forensic scientist began drumming his fingers against the side of the keyboard before him, trying his best to focus back on the little screens in front of him, showing that the goose was growing closer and closer to the edge of the city.

When his phone finally dinged, alerting him that he had finally gotten a response, he practically lunged for the device. He had been expecting a paragraph telling him the general gist of what they had to talk about, but instead he was sent three photos, each of which contained two pages of drawings.

‘ _I think Martin is trying to tell us something._ ’ Was the only caption to the snapshots.

Ed found himself laughing as he re-read the messages, both from amusement and from relief. They didn’t need to _talk_ talk, of course they were good, this was something to do with Martin, and that was easier to handle.

‘ _Obviously he’s trying to tell us that he’d like to celebrate Christmas :D_ ’

‘ _You don’t say._ ’ He could almost feel Oswald face-palming through the screen, because if it was obvious for him, of course it was going to be obvious to his little Penguin.

He was torn, because despite Christmas not being his favourite time of year, he knew by proxy that it was also the time of year that was supposed to bring family’s closer, when people were meant to spend more time with each other. Crime was also at its highest during December, but that was a given.

‘ _What do you think we should do?_ ’ The next text came a few minutes later as he was lost in thought. ‘ _Should we indulge him?_ ’

Ed didn’t want to, he tried his best to ignore Christmas each year, tolerating it at best, but… This _would_ be their first Christmas together as a family, and they should make it an unforgettable memory. Martin had to have good childhood memories, better childhood memories, and he was suddenly determined to help the boy do just that.

‘ _Definitely._ ’ He responded, a Cheshire cat grin spreading his lips to their limit as he abandoned the CCTV room, computer chair spinning in his wake as he made his escape. They had planning to do.

* * * * *

When Oswald returned to the manor a few hours later, he had acted as if he hadn’t seen any of the drawings on his desk, complaining lightly about his aching ankle and how much he hated the cold weather; it was true, but perhaps he’d overplayed it a bit. Still, it had done its job in distracting Martin, and noting the boy’s face fall out of the corner of his eye. The first twinges of guilt began.

That wouldn’t do, but he’d soon after told Zsasz to take his son for a little drive to get him out while he ‘cooled off’, and no sooner had the two left the manor did his partner come barrelling through from the back entrance.

“Must you make so much noise?” The shorter man quipped, hobbling over to the nearest phone to begin making the arrangements. So much to do, so little time.

“You weren’t complaining the other night.” Ed retorted, relieving himself of his emerald jacket and bowler hat on the coatrack by the front door, loosening his tie and fixing his hair as he re-entered.

Oswald of course ignored him, but a blush had raced up his neck to stain his cheeks, tips of his ears glowing as he barked orders down the phone to rally any and all decorators he could get his hands on. When The Penguin called on you, it was one you didn’t ignore, or you faced the chance of making a very powerful enemy. If you wanted to succeed, they weren’t good things to have - especially not in Gotham, and especially not The Penguin.

Being dutiful as always, Ed began clearing away anything breakable or valuable, setting them all in his little ruffled bird’s home office and out of the way of the dozen or so people he estimated would be scrambling to get to the manor. It was well known that the Penguin paid handsomely if he approved of your work, and at this time of year, they weren’t about to turn the extra money down.

Half an hour later found Oswald squawking at decorators as they carefully placed ornaments around the living room, leading into the dining room and out into the hall. He was going to have his house exactly the way he wanted it, or at least he would scream the place down trying.

In between flitting from room to room making sure things were going smoothly, the kingpin was also texting Zsasz to make sure he knew to keep Martin distracted for a little while longer as they finished on the mansion. Apparently Victor had taken him to meet his girls, his two female assassin companions, and they were distracting him with plenty of sweets. Wonderful.

As per usual, Oswald and Ed made the perfect team, rushing the strangers while giving them sufficient time to finish; Olga had started cooking dinner already, and Martin would definitely be getting suspicious now, so they had to start hurrying things along.

* * * * *

Talk about a sugar rush! Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so much candy, and he couldn’t ever remember a time when he’d eaten so much that he’d been sick. He and Victor had pinkie swore not to say anything about it, he was embarrassed and still feeling a little peaky as they pulled up outside the dark mansion.

‘See you tomorrow, Victor.’ Martin scribbled on his notepad, waving goodbye as he climbed out and ventured up the stairs, using his key to open the thick wooden door and accidentally slamming it behind him. He winced, waiting for someone to call to him, but there was nothing, which was confusing.

He shrugged off his outer jacket and threw it up onto the coatrack - it was twice his size, he did what he had to - before cautiously moving further inside, despite the unease he felt in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right, there was no fire roaring in the lounge, so he couldn’t see much of what was going on. Where was his dad and Mr Nygma? Were they okay?

Suddenly there was a brightness that forced Martin to cover his eyes, mouth open in a silent gasp. He heard jingling, shuffling footsteps, and the low characteristic hum of lights. After a few moments, he lowered his eyes and squinted through the light, watching it as it dimmed down and he could finally see.

The mansion was definitely not as he’d left it earlier.

“Martin!” A familiar voice called, and he looked over to the fireplace to see his dad there with the Riddler, and then he really took the place in. There were lights everywhere, little ornaments of reindeers and Santa and snowflakes littered the place. There was a tree behind the sofa, and… And it was just how he’d imagined it; not too big, not too small, and with plenty of room for lights and tinsel. It was perfect!

“I think you’ve broken him.” He heard being chuckled before he ran in and wrapped his arms around the two, all disappointment from earlier that evening forgotten as he basked in the feeling of two arms wrapping around his back and pulling him in closer.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Martin signed over and over again after he’d pulled away, knowing that Oswald would understand his quick movements – Ed was still learning.

“Well, our first Christmas together had to be special, didn’t it?” Oswald pulled the boy back into a hug, looking up to his partner before unwrapping an arm from around his adopted son and using it to yank the man back in.

This was going to be the best Christmas ever, Martin thought, all because of his family.


	2. You're A Mean one, Mr Grinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald isn't having a good day at work, and the snow isn't helping. On the upside, Ed and Martin have time to grab some ice cream.

**13 thDecember (12 Days ‘Til Christmas)**

Winters in Gotham City were harsh and merciless, similar to the fair people that lived in her, but it was never worse than when it snowed. The type of snow that came to Gotham usually fell heavily, and always outstayed its welcome, covering the city in a thick blanket of white that made the streets and buildings seem cleaner than they had any right to look.

The first flakes of winter had fallen in early November, and it had been on and off for weeks since then; constantly threatening a downfall without following through. Rarely staying more than a few days before being washed away by a good dose of rain, but now with the temperature plummeting, Gotham was overdue the promised snowstorm. It had started just before dawn, falling gradually from the typical grey clouds above the citizens so used to them, until it began to lie on the sidewalks and roads. It would be a winter wonderland by that evening, surely.

Oswald had hoped that his day would be easy-going, Fridays were usually his least busy day of the week and a chance for him to catch up on the paperwork he avoided on his desk, but he had recognised the very specific throbbing in his leg as he had woken up nestled against his sweetheart. It was a pain he only felt on cold days, sharper and lingering longer than the ache he was accustomed too.

The Iceberg Lounge hadn’t been his first place of business that morning. No, his first task of the day would involve warehouse 9 by the docks, to oversee a shipment of weapons; this should have been a standard check-in, just to make sure people were doing the jobs they were being paid to do - and maybe put a little fear in them.

This was how the Penguin found himself on the upper floor of an ‘abandoned’ building at 9.55 in the morning, watching an idiot crack open a crate with a dingy orange crowbar to reveal his smuggled guns, or what should have been his smuggled guns. The crate instead contained cheap looking bottles of spirits, if he had to hazard a guess, some sort of vodka was most likely.

“What the hell is this?” He hissed in irritation, adjusting his stance to lean more heavily on his trusty cane. “I don’t believe these are the guns I paid for.”

The dock worker twisted the crowbar nervously in his hands as he was berated, internally chanting that his wife was right and he should never have taken this job. God, he was so sorry for not listening to her, this could be the end of him and she’d never know, “I-I’m sorry, Mr Penguin, I-“

“Listen, Bird,” a gruff voice interrupted with a chuckle, the sound of thick boots echoed as the head smuggler climbed the stairs to the upper level, his appearance was rather grubby overall, but his shoes looked brand new. “It is only small mistake. We lifted wrong cargo, no harm done.”

“No harm done? Are you being serious right now?” The mobster snarled, grip tightening on the head of his cane. The skin on his hands was pulled taut over the bone, sharp knuckles jutting out harshly through the pale flesh. Behind him, the three brutes he’d brought with him glanced at each other, all thinking the same thing – what a tourist.

“I don’t see big problem,” he chuckled, stepping around the four to clasp a gloved hand on the dock worker’s shoulder. His dark hair was greasy, with the majority of it hidden under a dirty Santa hat, badger-striped beard in need of a good brush. “I take these back, bring proper shipment in few days. Solved, no?”

Penguin gritted his teeth at the man’s stupidity, this kind of blunder was not to be taken lightly, and he could feel his blood begin to boil, “No, actually, _not_ solved.”

“I do not think little bird is-“

The kingpin lunged forward suddenly, yelling in fury as he threw all of his (surprising) weight into burying the hidden dagger in the tip of his walking stick through the imbecile’s clothes and up into his chest, twisting his hand to make sure it had punctured his heart. Blood seeped out immediately, especially as he withdrew his blade and wiped it on the man’s darkening shirt, sliding it back into his cane.

“ _Nobody_ calls me that,” Penguin squawked furiously. Only one person could call him that, and it certainly wasn’t the scum that had caused quite enough trouble for one day. Fixing his hair with a huff, he shoved the former smuggler through the window behind him, listening for the wet thud of his body hitting the ground as he straightened his tie and smoothed out his waistcoat. “Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.”

The dock worker was frozen in shock as he stared at the hole in the glass, mouth gaping like a fish as he tried to comprehend just what exactly had happened. He… He’d just witnessed a murder, an actual murder. Oh god. He should really call the GCPD, this was the stuff they were there for, and normally he would have if he hadn’t been in the gangster’s pocket with a family to provide for. He was also technically unemployed and committing tax evasion, so it was really in everyone’s best interest if he just kept his quivering mouth shut.

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” He eventually stuttered out.

“Load the boxes onto the trucks. Nothing has changed,” Penguin huffed, exasperated. It seemed he had to do everything around here, as usual. He supposed he didn’t pay these idiots to use their initiative though, otherwise there would be a lot more bodies to hide. “Take the crew, go and get my damn weapons. Understood?”  
“Yessir! Of course sir!” The promoted dock worker blabbered, and because he had some sense, and he knew he couldn’t straight up say no to one of the most powerful people Gotham, that was just suicidal.

Without another word, Penguin turned on his good heel and hobbled down and out of the warehouse, two of his lackeys close behind him; the third one was still in the warehouse, making phone calls and arranging for the body to disappear as soon as possible. They didn’t need someone finding the body and try to be a good Samaritan, that would just be unnecessary work for everyone.

* * * * *

Oswald had tried not to let any of the Christmas decorations touch his office, the only reason there was any sort of festivity at The Iceberg Lounge was due to popular demand, and the increased likeliness of patrons if there was an element of celebration to the place. It was also just expected of him to decorate the club, and because he knew there was a time and place to be different, he gave in.

It had actually been Martin to bring some colour in, stringing metallic purple and blue tinsel around the walls, taping white around the rim of his desk, and he’d allowed it, since doing so was bringing so much unusual joy to his son at the simple act. Only Victor had brought it up, and it had been an offhanded ‘nice’ after glancing around; no one else had dared to comment about the new additions to his decor.

The second murder of the day came just before he felt it was due time for some lunch, appearing in the form of a highly disgruntled and aggressive drug dealer who was complaining about not having enough territory to pedal his stash. This was one of those things that disgusted him and he usually didn’t give much energy or effort to, but there had been something about this man that grated at his nerves. His trusty knife got a little more use as he slashed the man’s throat wide open, sighing as he spotted the spray of red that had caught the cuff of his shirt. It hadn’t been much, but his shirt was still ruined, it was a delicate fabric that stained easily.

With the fallen body now laying in a pool of cooling blood, Oswald stepped carefully over the sprawled out legs and continued his afternoon as usual, texting the cleaning crew to get to the Lounge pronto and directing them up to his office as he relaxed at the bar with a scotch on the rocks. It was still a bit early, even for him, but he was trying to dull the aching in his leg.

“Jeez, Boss,” Victor grinned as he entered the Lounge an hour later, watching the cleaning crew carry the body bag through the club and out to their van; they were professionals, they knew how to get rid of evidence. “I thought you were getting into the Christmas spirit now, but you’re kinda being a Grinch.”

In retaliation, Oswald finished his drink and flung the glass in the assassin’s direction, who didn’t need to do very much as it fell short and shattered against the floor, “I’m not in the mood for this. What is it?”

“Interrupted lunchtime, huh?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, he did.” he huffed in response, reaching over the bar for another whisky tumbler to replace the one he’d just destroyed, dropping an ice cube in it and topping it off.

The smooth-headed assassin stood in the doorway and watched the shorter man huff and puff, knowing about his leg and how it could put him in a tremendously murderous mood, “Want me to go get you some chicken?”

Oswald only briefly paused at the question, because he’d promised his family that he wouldn’t eat so much greasy food anymore, but with the day he felt like he was going to have, he thought he deserved a bit of a treat.

* * * * *

Ed had been standing outside Hilltop Elementary School from 3.15pm, being his usual early self, and past the time by sending texts and having a peak at the late edition of the _Gotham Gazette_ \- whoever they still had putting together the brainteasers was making them dreadfully easy.

Exactly fifteen minutes later his ears perked at the sound of the old familiar school bell ringing inside, and a few moments later, students began to leak out of the doors, which swiftly turned into a stream as they were all eager to leave and start their weekends.

It took another few minutes for the mastermind to spot the head of curly hair bobbing through the other kids, and stuck his hand up for the other to be able to see him at the gates. On the Fridays he went to pick up Martin, he felt it was appropriate for him to dress down, to blend in for once. He may have been the Riddler, but with the lack of flair that came with his showy green suits and black bowler hat, he almost disappeared as he stood in a tasteful green sweater and dark grey slacks, a thick forest green coat shielding him from the snow and the biting breeze.

Martin spotted him soon enough, waving at him to signal he’d seen him as he skipped down the front steps and headed for the gates. The boy immediately ran over and wrapped his arms around his waist, the blunt edge of the book hanging from his neck dug into his hip, but he ignored it in favour of embracing him back.

“Come on, lets go get a treat. How about ice cream?” Ed smiled as they broke apart, offering a hand out to him. His answer was an enthusiastic nod before he found a smaller hand wrapping around his fingers, to which he gave a gentle pull and led the way to their favourite place.

‘ _Ice Caps’_ was a small ice cream parlour that occupied a corner just a few blocks away from the school, so it wasn’t a long walk before they both sat sharing a sundae together. It might have been mid-December with a snowstorm brewing, but no matter the weather, a sweet treat was hard to resist after a long week of school (and schemes).

Since it was a spot of theirs, they could both trust not to be poisoned or betrayed by the workers as it was under The Penguin’s protection, which could be a very comfy place to be. Ed and Martin had free ice cream, the place got a couple hundred bucks a week to keep it ticking over, with the added benefit of telling either of them if there were any suspicious characters about.

As they ate, they talked about how Martin’s schooling was coming along, how he was still finding public school after being home schooled. Ed couldn’t help becoming a little lethargic about his own time at the school, how he had hated it at the time but it had become a safe haven to him eventually; that was a story for another time, not over the remnants of a sundae.

“What do you think about taking some ice cream to your dad?” Ed asked as he sat back, letting the boy finish off the last dribbles at the bottom of the bowl. “Visit him before we head home?”

His answer was a thumbs up before Martin lifted the bowl and tipped it into his mouth, drinking what his spoon couldn’t get at. The lanky criminal couldn’t help but chuckle as he got up and asked one of the workers for a Penguin Special, an ice cream they kept in stock just for Oswald; a blend of red chili flakes and rich dark chocolate that always guaranteed to put the man in a good mood.

With the container of ice cream procured, Ed took the other’s hand and left the little shop, flagging down Victor (who was never too far) and asking him to take them to the Lounge. He wanted to ask about the look the assassin gave him, but he was sure he’d soon find out for himself.

* * * * *

Oswald almost felt like he was going for a personal record, his body count for the day rising by the hour, and if anything, he was even more irritable now and the pain in his leg hadn’t subsided in the slightest. After the drug dealer, he’d enjoyed the chicken his most loyal employee had gotten for him, and no sooner had he sat back in his office to let his food settle was he interrupted again by a few thugs who thought they could just stampede into his base of operation.

The Penguin preferred knives, but guns were excellent for long distance, as well as someone who wasn’t worth the expended energy. The snow must have been making people reckless, because it wasn’t long before two of the three hooligans that had stormed into his office were lying on the floor gurgling on their own blood. The last one, the ‘leader’, he only shot in the gut as he dodged a bullet that lodged itself into his nice chair.

Grabbing his walking stick, the mobster moved swiftly over and gave him a solid thwack over the head with his cane, reducing the taller man to his knees as his legs gave out on him, “Who sent you?”

The goon glared up at him, bowing his head to spit a glob of blood onto his buffed leather shoes instead of answering him, earning him another strike from Oswald’s cane. The tip of it had caught the man’s brow, splitting it open for the red liquid to ooze out and leak into his eye.

“I’m not going to tell you anything, _freak_. You’re going to get what’s coming to you soon-!” He was cut off by another blow to the head, but this time the Penguin didn’t stop, lips curled in a snarl and teeth gritted as he struck the other’s skull again, and again, and again. He finally hit the body so hard that it collided with the hardwood floor and snapped near the centre from the force, the top half flew off and smacked the wall before clattering to the floor, leaving him panting and exasperated.

That whole fiasco had been well over two hours ago, and now Oswald was relaxing back in his chair and resting his socked foot on top of a hot water bottle, the warmth seeping up into his muscles and soothing the aching bones & joint.

“Oh Ozzie, dear!” A sudden voice startled him, subconsciously sitting up straighter at the prospect of what that voice could mean – his two most favourite people in the world were here. “We have a present for you!”

It was still a few moments before his little family came into view, and he looked very fondly upon his other half dressing so casually; it reminded him of their early days, from when they’d first met, how he’d been so soft and innocent at the time. And look at him now.

“There they are,” Oswald tried to smile brightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes and his love spotted it immediately – he could tell the difference. “What did you bring me?”

‘A present.’ Martin signed to him (they were trying to encourage it more) before holding up the special tub of ice cream for him, moving over and setting it on his desk for him to reach.

“That’s just what I need right now. Get over here,” he gestured playfully, engulfing his son in a hug as soon as he was close enough. “Thank you, darling.”

Eventually he couldn’t bite his tongue much longer and it was out of Ed before it could stop him, “Has your foot been giving you trouble all day? What’s been going on in here?” – he could see the signs of a struggle, as well as the tell tale signs of the cleaners.

“I’ve just been having a rough day, which is something we can discuss later,” Oswald stared at him pointedly, hoping he would get the hint that it was much too gory to recount in front of young ears. “Besides, Victor has also been calling me the Grinch since this afternoon, and it isn’t getting funnier.”

“Mm… I have to agree. Green is more my colour, but you do look very nice in it from time to time.” Ed grinned, winking teasingly to the gangster, feeling very satisfied with himself at how quickly the other’s cheeks and ears coloured.

“And that is how Ed ends up sleeping in one of the guestrooms sometimes, Martin.” He smirked at the curly haired boy. 

“You _are_ a mean one, Mr Grinch.” Was all the Riddler could say as he pouted and made his way over to the pair, but Martin was highly amused and silently laughed at them.


	3. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Martin enjoys a day around Gotham with Zsasz, Oswald and Ed take some time to have a lunch date and reminisce about why they hadn't shared a Christmas together until their small charge had come into their lives.

**14 th December (11 Days ‘Til Christmas)**

Just as predicted, Gotham was a beautiful wonderland in the early hours of the day, the pristine snow adding highlights to all the dark buildings that made the city who she was. While a foot and a half of snow wasn’t enough to stop the Gothamites carrying on with things, the chill in the air that came with it was certainly enough to put the current ruling king of the underworld in a not so good mood. The man in question could feel just how much worse the weather had gotten, it chilled his bones as he slowly woke up beside his taller half.

Yesterday, compared to the rest of the week, had been a disaster. Oswald woke up hoping that the carnage from the day before would at least deter anyone else from shooting up his club for the next few days, he was trying to hive his son the best Christmas he could have, that didn’t include him ending up in Gotham General before the holidays.

As it currently stood, it was customary in the Cobblepot household to have breakfast with one another every day, and each member of the small family did their best to make sure that nothing got in the way of that. They made a point of having breakfast each morning together because, being active criminals with plenty of enemies, they weren’t always sure that all of them would make it home for dinner unscathed.

Oswald would reschedule or cancel meetings, Ed would postpone or scrap plans, and they would both be sitting at the table from 8am; usually they would be fully dressed and ready for the day, but on the rare occasion, they could be found in their pyjamas and robes sitting side-by-side at the table. It was one of those rare occasions it seemed, the pair sitting at the table in a casual state of undress in their night clothes, both still trying to cope with the culture shock of so much colour invading their home.

Martin always came down dressed for school (unless it was the weekend), not wanting to waste any time having to go back up to get ready when he could enjoy the morning with his dad and Nygma before he had to go. Since it was Saturday, the younger Cobblepot was clad in his fluffiest blue pyjamas and matching slippers, a dressing gown pulled over the top of them and loosely tied at the front. Nothing was out of place as he skipped down the stairs, notepad thumping against his chest with each step down.

Correction, nothing upstairs was out of place, but downstairs was like a completely different house. He’d have to ask about decorating upstairs next, or maybe that would be too much? What if he slowly snuck tinsel up the bannister to the next floor? He felt like that was something he could get away with.

‘Morning!!’ Martin had scribbled in his book, showing it to the men across from him after he’d placed himself in front of the bowl of cereal waiting for him at his place.

“Good morning,” Oswald smiled at his son, as if the boy had been anything else since they moment he’d spotted him at the orphanage. “How did you sleep?”

‘Ok’ was all the paper had written on it as the curly haired boy started devouring his breakfast, taking a break occasionally to gulp at his juice and breathe before going back to his food. He paused mid-chew in thought, writing ‘I had a dream about Santa’ before continuing to finish his food.

“Santa?” the beaky-nosed criminal repeated, more from curiosity than anything else. It had been something playing on his mind, whether the boy still believed in that, but he hadn’t gotten around to asking. That was something else for him and his taller half to talk about, the fat man in red himself and the toys he would be bringing with him.

“Saint Nicholas. Father Christmas. Jolly old Kris Kringle-“ Ed cut himself off there before any other words could leave him, shocked at himself for saying it, despite knowing that Kris Kringle was an alias of the festive figure. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat as he forced a grin. “Santa Claus.”

“Yes, I know who he is,” Oswald replied dryly, raising an eyebrow first at his partner (in life and in crime) then at their son. Being as close as they were, he did consider Ed a father to Martin, and if anything were to happen to him, the boy would be put in his care. “What was he doing in your dream?”

His only reply was a shrug, which he found suspicious, but he wouldn’t push for an answer, he didn’t need to know that badly.

It wasn’t long before Victor arrived at the mansion, stealing a few pieces of toast as he waited for Martin, who hugged the kingpin and waved goodbye to Ed before heading out for the day.

The two remained in a comfortable silence for another few moments, finishing their respective breakfasts; Ed sat reclined and angled towards the gangster, watching him as he drank the remains of his coffee; Oswald held his usual morning edition of the _Gotham Gazette_ in one hand as his empty mug rested on his crumb-littered plate, he liked to be prepared before he faced the day.

“You know,” the green-clad man hummed beside him, draining his cup and setting it beside the other’s. “Neither of us are needed anywhere else for the next few hour, we could hypothetically go back to bed.” – he’d wiggled his brows suggestively along with the thought.

“My dearest Ed, I don’t think so,” Oswald smirked at him, closing and folding the paper before him, dropping it onto the table as he stood, using the chair to steady himself. “Besides, I’m going to enjoy a bath with my free time.”

“Think of the water we could save if we shared one!” Was the playful argument after him as he hobbled towards the stairs, but he paused at the first step. 

“I don’t care about the conservation of water,” he retorted, unable to contain a chuckle at the corresponding whine. Oswald took another stop, paused for a moment, and reconsidered. “But… Maybe you could still join me.”

* * * * *

The crisp whiteness of the snow hadn’t lasted more than a few hours, quickly turned into a filthy, gritty grey slush along the roads and sidewalks from cars and commuters. The ground was too wet for new snow to be able to land, instead just adding to the icy sludge. When it all froze over during the night, then the snow would land and rebuild its blanket across the city, and the cycle would continue like that until late spring – even with gritters patrolling the streets throwing salt along the roads to try and keep them semi-clear of ice.

Oswald would do anything he could to avoid the cold weather, especially snow, it did nothing for his bad leg and made him terribly grouchy. The last thing he needed was a repeat of yesterday. If it hadn’t been Saturday, he wouldn’t have even humoured leaving his warm office at the Iceberg Lounge; except it was, and he wouldn’t miss his ritual lunch date with his other half, especially since they wouldn’t be seeing each other again until that night.

As he huffed and puffed at his paperwork and thugs, the kingpin could have cried with relief as he received a message sometime before 1pm simply saying; ‘ _Bringing lunch to the Lounge xxx_ ’.

‘ _I love you so much xxx_ ’ Oswald replied almost immediately, then arranged with the kitchen staff to have a table set up for them on the main floor by the bar. The Lounge wouldn’t open until four at the earliest, for the regulars and tourists, so that would give them plenty of time to enjoy their lunch before going their separate dastardly ways until dinner.

They had been in an official relationship for a few years now, even longer if you counted how close the pair became as Oswald ran for mayor, how they almost intimately planned his campaign together. So the whole love thing could still be a little overwhelming, but while Oswald restrained himself from saying it as much as he actually wanted to, he didn’t push Edward to say it; he knew how he felt, he didn’t need to hear it constantly, he could tell by how he acted and how they were with each other.

“Oh, Ozzie!” He heard a sing-song voice resonate through the club and up to his office half an hour later, it seemed his love had finally decided to make an appearance for their date.

Straightening his waistcoat and grabbing his cane, Oswald limped down the stairs towards the arranged table, clenching his teeth against the pricks of pain that shot up his leg with each step, but he tried to relax and ignore it as the other came into view.

“You know I hate you calling me that, _Edward_ ,” he retaliated playfully, falling into his chair at the table and trying to keep his sigh of relief at being off his feet subtle so Ed wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. A distraction tactic was needed then, to stop him from asking. “What did you bring with you?”

“You’ll see.” Ed grinned, winking as he opened the box he’d brought in with him, choosing not to bring up the elephant in the room just yet in favour of feeding his little Penguin.

Two bowls were already set out on the table, perfect for what he’d brought with him, and he was trying his best to keep it a surprise for as long as possible. Reaching in, he lifted out a black tupperware container and placed it on his side of the table, moving the bag to the floor to make space, and popped open the lid.

“Have you been _cooking_?” Oswald accused, trying to suss out what he had been brought to eat, but the crafty man was giving nothing away.

“Olga helped, but I did most of it.”

“Huh. I’m surprised you let her.” 

“I didn’t. She either helped or I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen.”

“Yes, that sounds much more believable.” Oswald genuinely laughed, watching as the spectacled man began dishing out whatever he’d made. It looked… Familiar. A memory was tugging at him from the back of his mind, of sharing a home-cooked meal with his mother once upon a time when he had been a nobody and she had been his world.

“Well, tell me what you think.” Ed grinned toothily, closing the container and sitting himself down across from his counterpart, waiting eagerly for him to have the first bite; he wanted his full attention on the other to see how he was going to react, he hoped it would be just as he’d imagined.

If this had been anyone other than his partner that had made the food, Oswald would have had it taste tested in case it was drugged or poisoned (a common practice amongst the gang leaders), you could never be too careful in his line of work. Thinking about it, if he’d planned better, he still might have gone with a taster – Ed did like his practical jokes.

He picked up his spoon and gave the food a stir after a moment, sceptically staring at what he’d gathered on his utensil before blowing on it. He knew what he was eating as soon as it touched his tongue, of course he did, it threw him back to his childhood, of coming home after another horrible day at school to his mother’s comfort and her cooking. 

“Ed… How…” The words came out far softer than he’d been prepared for, they were small and came from his soul, or whatever was left of it at this stage. He took another spoonful, just to be sure. “This is… How?”

“It was easy, really. I remembered what you told me about Miss Falcone,” he took his own mouthful and hummed in thought, personally he wouldn’t have put so much garlic and pepper into it, but that was just him. “About her trying to manipulate you by using your mother’s recipe. I simply went to the restaurant and found the person who made it- Actually, the most astounding thing is she still had it.”

Oswald could remember the feeling of being overwhelmed that came over him as he’d taken the first bite of the goulash, but not just any goulash, his mother’s. He was aware that he’d ran from the place like a bat from hell, but sometimes memories of his mother caught him so off guard that they almost tore open the scars that her passing had left behind.

“You’re too good to me sometimes.” he sighed fondly, reaching across the table and grasping Ed’s hand, giving it a loving squeeze; it was a tender show of affection without being over the top, both of them could be so easily flustered.

“Yes, well,” the brunet cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses with his free hand before using it to cover Oswald’s. “You know I would do anything for you.”

The couple lulled into a companionable silence as they finished their meals, chasing the food down with a bottle of wine, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary for either of them. One of the kitchen staff (they pulled the short straw) scurried in at some point to take away their empty dishes, two more entering to take away the table and chairs after the villainous pair moved themselves over to a booth.

“Christmas was always one of her favourite times of year,” Oswald eventually broke the peace between them, now leaning against his partner with his head on his shoulder, hands clasped together over his content stomach. “She loved the music and decorations. She used to feel guilty for not being able to give me more, I could see it in her eyes that it hurt her, but I didn’t want anything as a child. She never believed me.” – the chuckle that left him was soft and sad, his slumped body almost seemed to melt further into the upholstery.

“It’s never been the best time of year for me, I’ve actively tried to avoid it for years now. Unsuccessfully, of course,” Ed had his head tilted to the side, glasses slightly askew as his flushed cheek rested against inky black hair. It would certainly take more than a bit of wine to get him drunk, but he felt pleasantly buzzed, although he would still be clear-headed enough to pull off his plans later. “I hate thinking about my childhood, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I was left black and blue far too often. I escaped from them as soon as I could, and I haven’t looked back.”

The resident king reached over and rested a hand on the former profiler’s upper arm, not doing more than letting the other know that he was there to do nothing more than listen. Oswald knew that Ed had had a rough start in life, it made him isolated and awkward in his youth and into his early adulthood, but he was getting better. While being bullied had been horrible for him, he had never suffered from abuse quite like his riddling other half.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable with anything, I’ll get rid of it.” The mobster promised, and he would stay true to his word; if anything caused him any sort of alarm, it would be burned and destroyed.

“Thank you, Ozzie, but that isn’t necessary,” Ed chuckled, turning his head to press a kiss against his little bird’s forehead, intertwining their hands. “We’re doing this for Martin, remember?”

Oswald smiled fondly up at the other with watery blue eyes, leaning up to place a kiss against a warm cheek, “For Martin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've clearly lost my mind, because I listened to White Christmas by Michael Buble (ft. Shania Twain) 63 times while editing this and trying to make it understandable from the mess I'd left from last year, so I hope this came out okay and everyone liked it!


	4. Never do a Tango with an Eskimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lazy morning doing nothing, Oswald, Ed, and Martin go their separate ways for the day. Oswald goes to the Iceberg Lounge, Ed off to thieve, and Martin to compile his Christmas list. The Master of Riddles swings by the Lounge to see his shorter half, only to find him with the frostiest man in Gotham.

**15th December (10 days 'Til Christmas)**

Usually high-stress work weeks led to easy going weekends, but with the year coming to an end, a day in bed didn’t seem to be in the cards. At least, not an entire day in bed, but there was nothing wrong with lying in a little later than usual - batteries had to be recharged, after all.

After spending so much of his adult life alone, the last thing that Ed was ever eager to do was unwrap himself from the hot water bottle of a man pressed against him, two hands loosely grasped the front of his pyjama shirt while a pointy nose jabbed into his collar bone. He couldn’t have been more content.

When they’d gotten home yesterday, he had insisted that Oswald have a bath after dinner to help soothe his leg; the warmth of the water would help relax his muscles and the weightlessness of the water with his joints. It was a ‘two birds with one stone’ scenario, and he helped him up the stairs as Olga had began clearing the table. Martin had run ahead of them to grab some fresh towels for his dad, leaving them sitting on a chair by the sink for him when he was ready to get out.

As a result, his beloved’s hair was lusciously soft since it lacked any product in it, and Ed took great pleasure in running his fingers lazily through the black strands. It had a clean, glossy look and smelled of tea tree oil, which explained the softness and appearance.

“Mm… Go back to sleep…” A throaty voice grumbled a few minutes later, which didn’t deter him in the slightest, although he felt a spot on his chest heat up suddenly from a yawn before Oswald tried to bury his face further into him.

“Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead.” Ed chuckled fondly, his long fingers passing through the inky mop of hair before resting on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Something incoherent was mumbled against him, and it was either a playful jab or (most likely) an affectionate insult, either way it was very endearing and made him nuzzle into the hair he’d just been petting.

“What time is it?” Oswald eventually groaned, rolling over onto his other side and covering his face with their blanket.

“I think it’s a little after 9, I wasn’t able to get to my glasses,” Ed reached behind him and snagged said glasses now that he was free to turn, peeking through them to check the clock on the wall before dropping them back on the bedside table and reaching over for his sleepy lover. “Just as I thought. It’s nearly 9.30, so we’d really best be getting up.”

An obnoxiously loud yawn came from beneath the blanket, shifting about before settling back down again, “Five more minutes.”

The riddling criminal wasn’t convinced in the slightest, but he would let it slide for now, if only so he could scoot across the bed after the other and wrap his arms around him, pulling Oswald’s back flush to his chest.

Ed really couldn’t help it, honest. How could he resist not taking advantage of this side of the Penguin that no one else got to see, this soft and sleepy little bird that owned his heart completely. Brave fingers slid down and snuck beneath the kingpin’s night shirt, feeling for soft skin to warm them up.

* * * * *

They ended up not getting out of bed for another hour, both drifting in and out of sleep as they enjoyed the comfortable feel of each other’s body heat, but eventually they had to get up and assume their responsibilities.

The first order of business was, of course, going and getting Martin up for breakfast; the boy knew that Sundays were usually designated ‘lounge days’ and didn’t mind laying on in bed longer than usual.

Oswald took his time in the bathroom, still feeling sluggish from their highly indulgent morning of relaxation. It wasn’t long before he was sorting himself out into one of his signature purple suits, wearing a black shirt underneath to further accentuate his matching suit tie. He hated Christmas for making crime such a demanding occupation to be in.

With the new year creeping closer and closer, it was usually the best time to collect unpaid debts and square off any issues you might have had with others. It was relaxing to have a clean start with the coming year, or at least mostly a clean start; there were always stragglers late to the party to think of. Oswald preferred showing his loose ends to Gotham harbour (no mess or evidence), while Ed would rather send them off sobbing and begging (remembered and feared). Sometimes the couple would even get rid of their problems together, made a day of it, maybe grabbed a bite to eat and a bottle of wine once they were finished.

Ed had stayed in bed and watched his shorter half shuffle about their shared room, primping and preening himself like a bird getting ready to woo a potential partner. A whisper in his head agreed with him, and he hid his chuckling at the comparison by busying himself with finally getting ready, ducking into their en suite before anything else could be said.

Martin was a light sleeper - a blessing and a curse - so it was easy to rouse him from whatever dreams he was in the middle of to get him ready for breakfast, going for something more casual than his parents and instead opting for a soft charcoal cardigan over a white collared shirt, navy slacks and his favourite black shoes were just a given really.

It wasn’t unusual for the occupants of the Nygma-Cobblepot household to have different plans from each other for the day, it was actually more common than not. Oswald had business at the Lounge, Ed was off to steal some schematics for banks around Gotham (again), and Martin actually wanted to visit a comic book store downtown for a few hours; apparently he was looking for things for his Christmas list.

None of them departed from the manor until it was just past eleven, partly because they got caught up in talking about plans and such, but mostly because they weren’t quite ready to brave the snow outside until it had stopped.

* * * * *

“Oswald! You will not believe what I-“ Ed had started as he burst into his partner’s office a few hours later, appropriately freezing as he spotted quite possibly the (literally) frostiest man in Gotham perched on the side of Oswald’s desk.

The gangster appeared in his line of sight from behind the tin can popsicle, a wide grin on his face that almost reached his pale eyes and made them sparkle, “Riddler! Good afternoon!” – they had both agreed it was more professional to refer to each other as Penguin and Riddler when around other villains, if only to keep things somewhat classy.

Hm. His little bird seemed happy to see him, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary – the feeling was mutual – in the least, but… He and Fries _were_ sitting awfully close to one another, or perhaps it just seemed like that from where he was standing.

“Riddle-man.” Fries grinned over his shoulder at him in acknowledgement, immediately making him feel mocked considering the last person who had called him that.

He schooled himself before speaking again. Or tried to.

“What is _he_ doing here?” Ed struggled to bite back the growl in his voice, spine ramrod straight as he narrowed his eyes in irritation. They might not have been enemies, but that didn’t mean he had to like the guy, he had no qualms with giving him the _cold_ shoulder.

“Victor was just asking for some help.” Oswald replied after a few heartbeats, raising a brow questioningly at the other’s behaviour, it was best to be civil in situations where one of them had the ability to turn the room into an ice rink.

“Yeah,” Fries agreed casually, turning to stand and square up to the green suited nerd in front of him, smirking when he noted that he was slightly taller than him. “Who better than the King of Gotham, right?”

This was an inconvenience, and Ed wasn’t happy in the slightest. He’d read all of the Rogues’ files (courtesy of the GCPD) front-to-back and vice versa, learning both their weaknesses and their strengths; he could recall seeing before and after photos of Fries, even without his glasses on he could see the man would be considered…. Attractive to most. He wouldn’t say he was intimidated, but he was certainly not amused by the snowman, or whatever kind of relationship he had with Oswald.

“Why? You’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Are you asking for help with funding? I may as well be a professional bank robber at this point,” – not that he was offering his services to the ice cube – “Or are you robbing labs now? Still not able to find that cure of yours?” The Riddler snipped, unable to stop his tone from becoming a little bit patronising. He reckoned he preferred Valeska over the beefed up snowball, and that was saying something. “Strange was probably the only person who could have reversed your… _Condition_ , and nobody knows where that wacko scientist has slunk off to.”

He didn’t quite get the rise out of the walking snow cone that he was looking for, but he didn’t miss the irritated twitch of Fries’ upper lip at his poking. It wasn’t a huge victory, but it would certainly do for now.

Of course Ed offered to help, how could he say no when Frosty was making obvious passes at his other half? He didn’t think Oswald was being purposefully ignorant of the flirty glances he was getting, or the casual feel of the supposed meeting.

‘ _Maybe he is…_ ’ A familiar voice whispered into his ear. ‘ _Our Little Bird misses nothing…_ ’

Hm. His Other Self _did_ have a point there, but why would Oswald pretend not to notice the walking popsicle’s advances?

‘ _Maybe he’s testing us…_ ’ He whispered again. ‘ _Maybe he wants to be enticed…_ ’

Now that sounded more like their feathery lover, but he wouldn’t have thought he’d bring in Fries just to rile him up. It seemed a little underhanded, but he knew how the shorter man could play dirty, and far be it of him to roll over and admit defeat. He would fulfil this role he was being offered.

“Boys,” their pissing contest was interrupted by the object of their mutual squabbling, Oswald having moved from his throne-like chair to stand between them, resting a hand on each of them and pushing them apart. “You’re both pretty, now let’s get back to business, shall we?”

The two taller men stared each other down before Ed offered his arm to the Penguin and guided him back to his plush seat, moving to stand by the gangster’s side – where he would always be.

He wasn’t aware that he’d been doing something with his hands until he was leaning forward to place a small origami penguin down by his darling's elbow, the tiny yellow bird stood out sharply against the dark wood.

“Riddler is an excellent hacker, getting into the lab’s security systems to disable them should be rudimentary for him,” Oswald continued his dealing with Fries, moving the paper statue more in front of him. If they shared one thing in common, it was being easily flattered, and being won over with it. “Isn’t that right?” 

A part of him felt glee at seeing his tiny gift be given a space on the desk, but he knew that his partner always loved the paper penguins he made for him, he always had, even back to their Arkham days. In fact, he knew Oswald still had the little penguin he’d made for him from the wrapping of his puzzle present, it was flattened and used fondly as a bookmark now.

‘ _Let’s see what the abominable douchebag can do…_ ’ a voice whispered in his ear, and he chuckled to himself as possessiveness curled in the pit of his stomach.

“ _Riddler_.” His name being hissed snapped him back into the moment, blinking and glancing down at Oswald with a raised eyebrow. “The security cameras at the lab?”

“Child’s play.” Ed echoed, grinning smartly at Fries and making sure to show all his teeth; it was a sign of aggression in most animals, and he fully meant it.

Throughout the rest of the meeting, the penguins on the dark wooden desk grew until there was a colony of them ranging in colour and size; it seemed neither side of Ed was enjoying the unwanted extra company of Fries.

Anytime the snow miser was too close to Oswald for his liking, he was right there by his side, making sure the interaction didn’t go further than standing beside each other. Ivy had once told him how muscular the other man was, shamelessly saying that both of them had been wide-mouthed at Fries’ physique when they’d finally found him. That hadn’t amused Ed in the slightest.

“Your plan is sorted, and you have the men you need for this heist.” the mobster huffed as he landed back in his chair, the throbbing pain in his ankle forcing him to rest. It had been hours of pacing and strategizing, plenty of ideas from all three parties had been proposed, rewritten, and eventually scrapped.

“Perfect, thanks for the extra manpower, and the camera footage.” Mr Freeze’s gaze flicked from Oswald to Ed, then back to the infamous Penguin. “You’ll get your cut, as promised.”

“Or else.” Oswald chuckled playfully, but the kingpin’s words had a weight to them that wasn’t to be taken lightly.

Replacing his goggles, the refrigerated villain smirked one last time at the Riddler before making himself scarce, an obvious chill to the air in his wake as he left the couple alone.

As the office door closed, Oswald visibly slumped into his seat, head in hand as he sighed. Why did the other villains have to be such hard work? This was the reason he only collaborated with them now, usually through Zsasz, and it wasn’t as strenuous as this. Just being near Fries almost forced his leg to seize up, the joint almost too painful to move and the muscles tensed.

“Well,” Ed cleared his throat and flattened his tie, adjusting it ever so slightly. “Thank goodness that’s over.”

Oswald glanced in his other half’s direction at the sound of his voice, noting how stiffly he was standing, legs rigid and spine ramrod straight. What was that about, he wondered. He _had_ been rather off for the entirety of Fries’ meeting, barely his usual quirky self, not even gracing their presence with a few timely riddles, “What’s wrong?” 

“What?” Wide eyes made contact with his own, a light blush suddenly highlighting the taller man’s cheekbones. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, why?”

The mobster wasn’t convinced, but he recognised the sort of colour staining his love’s cheeks, and used his desk to help him get back onto his feet, thoughtfully hobbling over to him. “Ed… You weren’t… _Jealous_ , were you? Of Fries?” He asked curiously as he came to stand in front of the other, hands reaching up to the green lapels and fixing them.

“Jealous, of that stomping snowflake? Of course not!” Ed huffed out a response, but his deepening blush spoke for itself.

“Oh Eddie,” Oswald cooed teasingly, using the lapels between his fingers to pull his lover down to him, lips pressed against each other in a chaste kiss. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

There was a hum in response as the taller of the two connected their lips again, long arms moving to circle Oswald’s waist, pulling him closer as arms snaked around his neck. He felt he needed a little convincing.


	5. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brewing snowstorm has finally hit Gotham, but the Cobblepot household is unaffected by the havoc the weather is playing on the city. Well, almost unaffected. Martin is thrilled to have the day off school, using the time off to play in the snow while Oswald and Ed try to clean up some messes inside.

**16 th December (9 Days ‘Til Christmas)**

As far as Mondays went, this one hadn’t been as terrible as others, certainly a lot better than last week – it was the small things. The snowstorm that had been brewing finally hit last night, a blizzard that froze the city still, and Fries couldn’t even be blamed for it this time. It had slowed down around dawn, but the damage was already done and Gotham was almost unrecognisable beneath the thick blanket of white.

There were some benefits to not living directly in the city, like not being snowed in for example, or your electricity not being cut off because the power lines nearby were frosted over and gave up. The mansion was still safe and toasty, the fireplace in the lounge roaring and heating the entire house, much to the joy of local reigning kingpin. There were also downfalls to not living directly in the city, like not being able to get to one’s place of work after being notified that the place has no power, so the half hour drive across nearest bridge was both hazardous and time consuming.

Oswald’s phone started ringing at 8am on the dot, just after he’d sat down in his suit of the day with his first cup of tea, and it really hadn’t stopped ringing since. When he wasn’t answering calls, he was listening to voicemails, and if he was doing neither, he was trying to figure out a plan of action from his home office.

Gotham City may be frozen over, but very little could stop the people of Gotham from going about their daily business, not everyone could afford to take the day off. Getting closer to the winter break, the schools in and around the city had no qualms with closing for the day – most of them didn’t have any working facilities anyway.

One of Oswald’s calls of the day was from Martin’s principal saying that he had decided to keep the school closed since it was the worst weather they’d had so far, and they didn’t expect buses to run or everyone to be able to make it in, not just the students but the staff as well. As much as he liked school, Martin was thrilled and went back to bed when he was told.

*****

If Ed had been hoping for another lazy morning because of the snow, he had another thing coming. Oswald woke him at just after half 8 to help him screen the calls he was getting, as even though most of the businesses he worked with had his professional number, others he’d been working with for a while had his personal number. The green pyjama-clad man had only weakly protested before dragging himself out of bed and into a forest green suit after getting control of his bedhead and brushing his teeth, he usually had a morning routine (much like Oswald) that he went through, though if he was needed quickly he was inclined to do the basics.

Martin was left to wake himself up, not getting out of bed until after he felt like he’d spent enough time napping, combing his own wild hair and washing his face before putting on some black slacks and a light blue shirt; he decided some fluffy socks would be enough since he wasn’t going out. Shuffling down the stairs, he was greeted with a piping hot bowl of oatmeal, drizzled with honey and topped with chopped banana pieces.

“There’s nothing like some good old porridge on a day like this,” Ed had smiled down to him, slipping a spoon into the bowl as he set down a glass of fresh orange juice for the boy to wash everything down with. He’d slung his suit jacket over the back of the chair Martin sat at, rolling his sleeves up and putting on a festive apron that looked a lot like the front of a gingerbread man. “Finish that up and there might be some hot chocolate waiting for you.”

The day had already been a flurry of trying to sort things without leaving the mansion, the morning quickly bleeding into the afternoon with no sign of things calming down, which meant a trip into Gotham was becoming inevitable.

Oswald had already spent the majority of the day in his office, mostly shouting at unnecessary calls for wasting his time with things people should have been able to do by themselves. Ed was keeping him plied with tea while he had the mobster’s personal phone to deal with delicate problems from people, assuring a robbed pharmacy owner (the one who gave Oswald his pain medication) that they would catch the hoodlums who did it while he made Martin the hot chocolate he’d vowed to make when he was finished his oatmeal.

“This is just ridiculous.” The beaky-nosed man occasionally growled to himself, ending a call to listen to a voicemail, only to be disturbed by another call. It wasn’t easy being the King, or the mayor, and for some reason he’d chosen to do both. If his mother could see him now.

Outside was beautiful, a picturesque view with the untouched snow surrounding the mansion. Nobody had come or gone yet, so the only blemishes were small tracks from the birds and other wildlife – mostly squirrels, probably a fox or two. Martin sat beside the Christmas tree staring out the window at the scene, mug of hot chocolate cradled between his small hands against his chest, the heat from the drink seeped through his shirt and warmed his skin, he didn’t think he could remember ever being cosier than he was now.

Blowing on the surface of the hot drink, the younger Cobblepot took a tentative sip, sighing happily at the taste, Mr Nygma could make a perfect hot chocolate alright. He wondered if he could have another one later, maybe before bed would be a good time. Glancing outside as he took another careful drink, he suddenly got an idea. Why was he looking at the snow? Why didn’t he just go out and play it in?

Martin tried to polish off the warm beverage as fast as he could without burning his mouth, savouring the last sweet mouthful before scurrying into the kitchen and leaving the mug in the sink. He ran back upstairs to his room and dug around in his closet until he found the boots is dad had bought him a few months ago, they would be perfect for tackling the elements outside!

It took him half the time to snag his scarf, a pair of gloves gloves, and one of his thicker coats before flying back downstairs. He left everything he needed at the front door, scarf and gloves on top of his boots and coat flung over one of the coatrack hooks, casual and not staged at all.

Hearing his dad still talking on the phone, he decided to look for the other occupant of the mansion – Olga would have been great, but she wasn’t there. Martin found Mr Nygma sitting at the kitchen table with his legs crossed over his knees, apron folded neatly and abandoned by the sink as he sat with a coffee and yesterdays paper, doodling question marks around the puzzles page as he made non-committal sounds into the phone held between his shoulder and ear.

‘Can I go outside and play in the snow?’ Martin scribbled onto his notebook, capping his pen and waiting for the right moment to show the man what he’d written; it came a few moments later when the villain sat up to stretch and spotted him, then saw what he’d scrawled.

“Something just came up. Call back in a few hours, put it in your basement and wait for the power,” the enigmatic man snapped the phone shut with a grin, standing and pocketing the borrowed device, leaning down to lift his notepad and have a proper look at it. “You can absolutely play in the snow. As long as you wear the right clothes, of course!”

He didn’t have any doubts about being told no, but Martin was still overjoyed, excitedly grabbing Mr Nygma’s hand and practically dragging him to the front door to see his clothes still waiting obediently for him. Boots first, laced tightly by the riddling criminal for him to make sure no snow got inside, followed by his gloves and then his scarf, all tucked into the coat pulled snuggly around him that was soon zipped up securely.

Martin gleefully signed ‘thank you’ to the man a few times, notepad shoved into one of his pockets in case he needed it, before the front door was open and he was unleashed into the winter wonderland. He was smiling so widely it hurt, the snow beneath him no match for his boots as it easily gave way beneath him, crunching and holding his footprints in his wake.

A snowman. He wanted to make a snowman so badly. He was sure he could do it by himself, but where? In front of the old garden by the kitchen? How about in front of the lounge? Oh! He would build it in front of the window where the Christmas tree was, then he could see him whenever he sat there!

The curly haired boy made a few snowballs first, throwing them in every direction he could think of, testing himself to see if he could even do it before starting with a small snowball and rolling it along the ground, laughing silently to himself as it grew bigger and bigger before his very eyes. This was going to be easier than he thought, his dad and Mr Nygma were going to love this!

*****

Ed stood leaning against the doorframe for a few moments watching Martin run off into the snow, his breath coming out in small puffs of clouds as he chuckled at the boy’s antics. With how he was running about, he was going to exhaust himself, he would definitely need a hot chocolate top up in an hour or two, but until then he hoped he had fun.

Closing the heavy front door, Ed leisurely made his way towards the home office they both used for the criminal/mayoral business. The two professions crossed path more times than strictly necessary, but it wasn’t always the best idea to divide when wanting to conquer. Why work twice as hard when you can do two things at once and take care of them seamlessly? Oswald had a way of doing things like that, taking things in his stride, a master improviser when put on the spot. It was admirable, really.

He cautiously stepped into the office, unsure of what sort of carnage he was walking into. Maybe some thrown guns (unloaded of course), a knife or two, some scattered pages out of frustration? It was a roulette. He personally liked to scatter pages over the floor so he could see everything he needed all at once, it was a controlled chaos that he revelled in. Instead of any of that, he found Oswald composing himself and slipping his trusted gun into the holder beneath his suit jacket, gathering up some documents from his desk and sliding them into a folder – deeds and contracts mostly, some under the table licences, the usual.

“Ah, there you are. Bad news, darling, I need to go to the Lounge,” Oswald sighed regretfully, because he knew it was coming and he’d tried to prolong it for as long as he could, but now duty was calling. Gotham needed him as much as he needed Gotham. “I’ve sent for Victor; he should be here anytime within the next hour. You stay with Martin, enjoy a snow day together. You’ll make sure he doesn’t stay out for too long though, won’t you?” – he was more mother hen than Penguin sometimes, it was very endearing.

“Of course I will,” Ed eventually got out after a few moments, trying to hide his disappointment at the sudden turn of events. He knew it was inevitable, but he was hoping maybe to delay it a little longer. Domestic work days were some of his favourite things, the two of them working from the comfort of the mansion together, very few things could beat that for him. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea to go in?”

Oswald paused with the fussing he’d been doing with his tie to stare at his partner in green, chuckling fondly at him as he stepped out from behind his desk, “I really can’t stay.”

That was a strange way to to word his response, was he trying to say something? The phrasing of it sounded familiar, it tickled a memory in the back of his head. It was the musician in him that actually recognised the wording, how similar it was to a certain festive song.

“But… But baby, it’s cold outside.” Ed softly lilted, remembering some of the tune, moving towards the businessman. He took a slender hand in his and pulled Oswald closer, barely any space between their chests as he started to sway them.

“I’ve got to go away.” Oswald hummed back, playing along for a few moments and letting himself be twirled, making to step away and carry on getting ready when a long arm roped him back in.

“But baby, it’s cold outside!” The taller man finished, spinning them into a dip, mindful of his partner’s bad leg as he bent him backwards. “Convinced at all?”

“Oh, Eddie… Not even slightly.” The gangster chuckled, giving the other a chaste kiss before grabbing his shoulders and using them to pull himself forward, straightening the both of them onto their feet. “Duty calls.”

A dull thud interrupted them, they shared a puzzled look before leaving their office and heading towards the lounge. A few more thuds happened before they spotted the remains of snowballs sliding down the windows, some spatter still clinging to the glass. A glance outside revealed the culprit as Martin, rosy-cheeked and grinning mischievously, pointing behind him to the beginnings of a snowman in the front lawn.

“Well, maybe I could spare a little more time, just to make sure this snowman is appropriately dressed.” Oswald sighed playfully, because if they were going to have a snowman, it was going to be the most fashionable one around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot shorter than the other chapters before this, and I'm a little disappointed in myself for that, but I was working all day and couldn't start this until I got home. I'm thinking I'll most rough chapters and edit them after I've finished the series. I wouldn't post anything I was at least a little happy with, I'll just have to accept that I can't bang out 2k+ chapters constantly like I could when I was younger.
> 
> EDIT (17/12/19): I lied to myself, since I actually ended up making this a 2k+ chapter when I finished it.


	6. Lonely Pup (in a Christmas Shop)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed gets an idea for a Christmas present, mostly for Martin, but also for him and Oswald. It isn't exactly what they had in mind, but they're going to love it all the same!
> 
> ((P.S. the finished chapter 5 is also up!))

**17 th December (8 Days ‘Til Christmas)**

There was no more snow overnight, only a harsh wind and a bitterly cold night that froze any remaining snow from the day before into something more akin to solid ice, but some well warranted salt melted the driveway and the road out the front to make it just a little easier to escape.

This unfortunately meant that it wasn’t going to be another snow day, but Martin wasn’t prepared for it to happen two days in a row and had gotten up to get ready without complaint. Was there any point? He would be off from school for Christmas at the end of the week, he might as well do some fun things with his classmates. He had friends now, real friends, and it was still a little weird for him to feel like looking forward to seeing them and playing.

He was sitting at the table fully dressed and eating breakfast by 8.15, accompanied by his dad (with his usual cup of tea) and Mr Nygma (with his usual coffee). A spoonful or two into his cereal, he sat and watched as his dad opened the morning paper brought in by Olga and surrendered the puzzle section in the middle across the table to the resident master of riddles; it made him smile fondly at the action, a warm feeling in his chest at the action that reminded him of the hot chocolate he’d had yesterday afternoon. He always made his dad happy, and was always thinking about him, and saved him that one time from some bad guys. He liked him a lot, he was almost like a second dad to him.

Victor arrived at 8.30 to take him to school, pilfering a few perfectly buttered pieces of toast as the youngest Cobblepot gobbled up the last of his cereal, wiping away any stray drops of milk after draining the bowl of the last drags.

“I’m tagging along with you this morning,” his dad announced as he had stood from his chair to grab his coat and backpack, shocked expression morphing into an elated one. “Victor is going to drop you off and then take me to City Hall.”

Martin was never going to complain about getting to spend more time with the older Cobblepot, it was always entertaining. Maybe he would be able to go to the Iceberg Lounge later and draw at his small desk, ask for a lollipop or two and a soda while they worked. Mr Nygma said something about working from home this morning, something about bank plans or a cash withdrawal was casually thrown out with a shrug, but he didn’t pay much attention to it.

Coat and backpack on, he waited patiently by the door with Victor for his dad to say his goodbyes and prepare himself for work, which really just meant he fixed his waistcoat and slipped on his suit jacket. Martin helpfully handed a cane to the other as he finally made an appearance, then grabbed his free hand and walked to the car together, door already held open by Victor.

Martin shrugged his backpack off and climbed in, shuffling over to the other side of the cat to make room for his dad before settling himself and putting his seatbelt on, bag thrown to the floor between his feet so it wouldn’t roll around while they drove.

He waited until the deep purple-clad man had sat down beside him and fastened his belt across his chest, then showed him what he’d just scrawled on his notepad, ‘Can I come to the Lounge after school?’

“Of course you can, you know I love it when you visit me,” the adult beamed over to him after a moment of thought, probably thinking to see if he had any important meetings that day, not that he hadn’t sat through any of them. “I have candy canes on my desk now, I think you’ll like them.”

The majority of the car ride to Hilltop Elementary was in comfortable silence, with Martin occasionally pointing out decorations that people had put out, and how some festive shops had strung lights around their windows. It made the dark streets of Gotham a little less dreary, something he was so happy to see after spending so long staring out at them from the orphanage.

It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside of the school, a brief but warm hug was shared between the two Cobblepots and then Martin was hopping out of the car and skipping up the steps, waving goodbye to his dad and Victor before disappearing through the front doors to find his friends.

*****

Oswald and Victor sat wordlessly in front of the school for a few heartbeats, waiting until the boy had vanished inside before pulling away, and heading towards City Hall, he had quite a mess to try and clean up.

“Hopefully I won’t be more than a few hours, sign some things, give a few interviews, and then we’re off to the Lounge,” Oswald planned aloud, straightening his shirt cuffs and pulling his phone out to check for any messages, a few messages about shipments and payments owed to him, but nothing strictly urgent. “Come back for me around one. If I’m free earlier, I’ll ring you to come for me.”

“Can I get a couple of those candy canes later?” The bald assassin requested with a shit-eating grin, flying through an amber light just before it turned red. “I love candy canes. They’re my favourite Christmas candy, you know.”

The Penguin made a noncommittal hum of thought as the other continued to prattle on about the other kinds of festive foods he liked, such as gingerbread men but not gingerbread houses; fruitcake because it was both delicious and could be a weapon if baked right, and of course the classic Christmas pudding, mostly because he liked it was set on fire before you ate it.

“Like I said, I shouldn’t be longer than one.” Oswald sniffed and pocketed his phone as they reached City Hall, fidgeting briefly with his hair before grabbing his cane and stepping out of the car, only to be immediately met with reporters. “Good morning, citizens of Gotham. Interviews will be from nine-thirty onwards, wait in an orderly fashion and maybe I’ll get you.”

*****

One o’clock came and went and Oswald had barely scratched the surface of the chaos at City Hall, the terrible snow yesterday had backed up systems and forms and pretty much everything else. The reporters were easy enough to disperse, they just wanted quotes and opinions to print for the evening editions of whatever newspapers they were from, he didn’t bother keeping track unless they were writing gossip.

At some point Zsasz had waltzed into the building and reclined at the Mayor’s desk, making himself comfortable as the man was conducting a short interview for the news, it was mostly about the freeze over the day before and how he hoped the people of Gotham were digging in and carrying on, and then of course the public services were pulling their resources together to try and resolve the calamities that had befallen some households.

The clock ticked closer to two, and there was still no change to Oswald’s day. He needed to come into the office more, this was ridiculous. Perhaps someone he could trust as a courier could bring more work to the mansion, or maybe he could just bring more work to the Lounge with him. He’d need to consider a few options to run things more smoothly, this wasn’t working.

When the o’clock eventually reached two, things had started to slow, his receptionist was doing her job as he chipped away at the paperwork on his desk; Zsasz having moved to sit on the other side with his feet propped up on the wood and scrolling through his phone, waiting until he was needed.

“I think that’s quite enough for one day,” Oswald huffed out a few minutes later, throwing his pen down and closing the file he’d been signing his name in, paging his receptionist. “No more meetings for today, Olivia. Anyone who rings, reschedule them.”

“Right away, Mayor Cobblepot.” Her cheery voice responded before the line went dead.

With a sigh of relief, he stood from his desk and brushed his hands down the front of his suit, smoothing out any creases before shuffling the papers together and slipping them into his top drawer, locking the desk and making sure it was secure before stepping away.

“Get your feet off the desk, we have places to go,” The kingpin grumbled, knocking the assassin’s dominant heel off the edge with his cane. He was overdue for a drink and needed to be seated in a far comfier chair, otherwise his back and leg would never forgive him. “Now we’re off to the Lounge.”

Oswald idly wondered how Ed was doing as he responded to messages about times for people to meet him at the Iceberg Lounge, some had money to repay him and others were looking money; someone needed fake documents, and someone else needed some thugs to assist them with a scheme. The last one was more interesting, he’d had them draw up a continuity scheme of how they were going to pay him back and how exactly he benefited from the heist on an art dealer’s priceless collection of paintings.

‘ _How about you and I do a little Christmas shopping???_ ’ A message from Ed pinged just as he’d sat down behind his desk with a whiskey on the rocks cooling his hand. Christmas shopping for who, each other? It must have been, they’d already gotten some things for Martin, and something for Olga, and even a little gift for Victor from the three of them.

‘ _I have an idea for Martin’._ Another message followed a few moments later, giving away the other’s excitement over his sudden idea. Oh dear. He hoped it wasn’t something outlandish like a custom mini hand gun, or his own little green suit to match the Riddler; they’d already agreed that Martin suited blues far better than either of their preferred colours.

‘ _Get to the Lounge and we’ll talk about it_ ’. Oswald curiously text back, setting his phone onto the dark wood and resting back in his chair, swirling his drink around the single ice cube in the centre as he waited.

*****

"This is a brilliant idea and I think you’re going to agree to it because I already love it,” Ed gushed as he slipped into the large office that overlooked the club, practically vibrating in his forest green suit as he swanned over and perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Are you ready? A puppy.”

Alright, Oswald would hand it to the other man, he was definitely not expecting that suggestion. Don’t get him wrong, he _loved_ the idea, he’d always wanted one as a child but he and his mother had never been able to afford one. He actually used to play with stray dogs as a child to escape from the bullying he endured at school, the animals never judged him, most of them just wanted some food and a pet. He knew Ed felt the same, he’d always wanted a pet but had never been allowed one, and then never trusted himself to take care of one once he was living on his own.

This wasn’t a new conversation, it was a topic the two of them had brought up several times now, usually when they were laying in bed together cuddling, it was an idea that popped into one of their heads. It had come up more often now that Martin was around, a pet was good for a young boy (for any young child really), and they didn’t want him only spending his time with adults outside of school; a dog was perfect for all of them.

“Did you… Have you had a specific breed in mind?” Oswald managed to ask after a few heartbeats, the idea of them finally getting a puppy was too surreal. It would probably remain like that until they had the puppy, and everything else that goes along with one.

“No, not a breed in particular,” Ed shrugged casually, as if his partner couldn’t tell that he was just as excited as he was. He hadn’t exactly been subtle bursting into his office with the announcement of a dog, it was something new for all of them. “I just might happen to know that a few pet stores have puppies right now and we need to go before they’re all gone.”

“You just so happen to know?” He queried teasingly, standing and leaning across to press a kiss into the corner of the taller man’s mouth. He could imagine that Ed had already phoned ahead to these places to check what they had, now it was just a matter of choosing. “Lead the way, the staff will keep things ticking over until we get back.”

Ed still had his own car so he wasn’t restricted to having to wait for Victor or someone else to pick him up, though he also used it for errands and sometimes to pick up Martin on their Fridays together. The two slid into their respective seats and buckled up, driving barely five minutes away from the Lounge, though the light traffic made quick work of the journey.

The place didn’t look quite as reputable as Oswald would have liked, but he was hoping the inside would change his mind. The large window only showcased a litter of kittens and another of rabbits, no puppies at first glance. It was dirty and badly lit, the barking of small dogs starting as they walked in, birds squawking in response to the sudden loudness.

“Excuse me, I rang this morning, I was asking about the puppies you had?” Ed enquired at the register, bowler hat held against his chest as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, you and everyone else, buddy,” she scoffed, pointing to an empty cage near the front doors that now only had blankets in it. “That’s where they were. Most of them got bought earlier today.”

It was to be expected, a puppy or kitten were very popular Christmas presents. They didn’t have any better luck at the second place, although it was far cleaner. The third pet store was closed, sign on the front stating they had no animals, another bust. The fourth and final place that Ed had rang was a couple blocks away from the GCPD, down an alleyway that led to a small cluster of other shops.

A bell rang above their heads as the two stepped into the small store, surprisingly clean and slightly lifting Oswald’s standards of the place. A few birds chirped, some gentle meowing from one cat hidden somewhere, but the place was relatively quiet.

“Hello?” Ed called out, surveying the place curiously for any potential sign of puppies; nothing was immediately obvious, but they wouldn’t hold their breath. “Anyone around? We’re looking for a puppy?!”

The store stood still for a few moments, and just as the pair shared a look wordlessly deciding to leave, they heard shuffling from the back moving towards them. Another minute passed before presumably the owner appeared, squinting at them through glasses that covered up half of their face. 

“Puppies? No, we don’t have- _Mr Penguin_ ,” he suddenly recognised who exactly was gracing his store with their presence, quickly cleaning his glasses and sliding them back up his nose. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise who you were. Please, follow me, I have some in the back.”

The storeowner nervously scurried back from where he’d come from, Oswald and Ed once again sharing a look before following into the back. They both felt uneasy, but their curiosities were peaked at this interaction. As the two strolled further through, the soft barking became more audible, until they stepped into a warm room with a pen in the middle of it, blankets spread out along the ground. There in the middle of the room was not one but four British Bulldog puppies, three of them running chasing each other around and the fourth one snoozing, undisturbed by its siblings.

“Bulldogs. Not exactly what I had in mind, but a dog is a dog.” Oswald murmured to his other half, pondering for a moment before shuffling towards the pen to look over at the boisterous pups. They seemed healthy, plenty of energy, good colour to their coats; normal, happy puppies.

The three puppies running around had more white to their coats than the dozing one, more interested in each other than him, perhaps they hadn’t been around many people yet, not knowing what they went.

“Well? Which one should we pick?” Ed came up beside him, so close their arms brushed against each other as he leaned down to get a better look at them. Again, the three energetic ones showed no interest in him either.

While the couple stood discussing which of the puppies running around would be the best suited one for Martin and them, the fourth pup who’d been napping sat up and yawned, gave its ear a scratch, and spotted Ed and Oswald. The puppy’s entire body wiggled as it wagged its stubby tail in excitement, scrambling over and jumping up against the cage, letting out the tiniest bark that melted both of their hearts.

“It seems we aren’t the ones doing the choosing,” Oswald cooed, wedging his cane beneath his armpit as he reached in and scooped the puppy up. The bulldog pup, a little boy, might as well have weighed nothing with how light he felt. “Isn’t he just the cutest little thing? Yes you are, yes you are.” – the puppy was enthusiastically licking at his chin and neck, nuzzling into the knot of his tie.

“Looks like we have a keeper,” Ed smiled fondly at the scene before him, it was adorable, honestly. Turning and snapping his fingers to get the storeowner’s attention, he pointed to the puppy. “We’re taking this one.”

When you buy a dog, you can’t just buy the dog, that would be stupid. They also bought a bed, and some toys; puppy pads; food bowls; a few bags of puppy food, and a little black collar for him.

“There’s no way we can keep him a secret until Christmas,” the Kingpin suddenly realised, not even caring the pup was getting light fur on his dark suit, it was something he was going to need to get used to now. Oswald had carried the light things and the pup while Ed grabbed the food and bedding, most of it going in the trunk for later. “Zsasz is bringing Martin to the Lounge after school, should we surprise him?”

Slamming the trunk shut, Ed strode around the car and pecked the gangster on the lips, the puppy in his arms barking and trying to lick him before he pulled back, “What an excellent idea. Get in the car, sweetheart.”

*****

As much as he loved school, Martin felt like it was getting a little boring just watching movies or playing board games, he wanted to keep learning but everyone else didn’t. It was frustrating, but a few more days and he would be free to do whatever he wanted! Well, whatever within reason!

The bell rang half an hour earlier than usual, and it would continue to do that for the rest of the week. Thankfully parents and guardians had been notified of this on the school’s website, so there weren’t many children left wondering where their parents were. Victor had been parked at the gates from a quarter to to make sure he got a good space, and Martin spotted him as soon as he escaped through the doors, running down the steps and jumping into the front seat beside him.

‘TO THE CLUB!!!’ Martin showed him, ecstatically scribbled on his notepad. He wanted to see his dad and relax at his desk and get one of those candy canes! He’d been thinking about them through his last lessons, he was going to enjoy it.

Victor purposefully got them caught in some of the school rush traffic that added an extra ten minutes to their journey, and yeah, he could have gone the long way around to the Lounge, but he wouldn’t have gotten away with that, it was too suspicious.

When they finally made it to the Iceberg Lounge, Martin visibly relaxed as the duo hopped out and entered the club, asking the assassin if he could bring him a bottle of diet soda up to his dad’s office before making his way up with a yawn. Pushing open the big door, he spotted his dad and Mr Nygma over by the big desk, only giving them a tired wave and making his way over to his smaller desk, throwing his backpack on top of it and slumping into his own plush chair.

A moment passed without a sound, and then another, until he heard one of them clear their throat to get his attention, “We have a surprise for you, Martin.” – his dad coaxed, and something yapped after him.

The boy’s eyes flew up and nearly broke his neck with how fast his head turned towards the two adults, mouth gaping as he spotted the chubby pup panting on the older Cobblepot’s lap. He sprang from his chair and immediately over to the puppy, eagerly petting the soft fur and giggling as the little creature licked at his fingers.

“We couldn’t keep him from you until Christmas,” he heard Mr Nygma chuckle, but he was too engrossed with the fact that _they had a puppy!_ “We haven’t named him yet either, we thought we’d leave that up to you.”

That made Martin pause, looking between the two adults before wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist and hugging him tightly, trying to convey how happy and grateful he was through the action. Looking back at the puppy cuddling into his dad’s chest, it only took him a minute or two to decide what he wanted to call him. He let go of Mr Nygma and scribbled the name onto his notepad, turning to show his dad his idea.

His dad smirked gleefully at the idea, glancing between his face and the page before nodding his head in agreement, “Darling, meet Edward,” the club owner held the puppy up to the other man, it’s little chubby body still wiggling with the effort of trying to wag his little tail. “I think that’s a wonderful name for him, Martin.”

He smiled happily at the praise, rushing over to finally hold the puppy for himself, cradling the little body against his own and giving him a good hug, giggling again as Edward licked and nibbled at his ears. He glanced up in time to see Mr Nygma hide his face with his hand, but he could see a smile, he liked the idea too, he knew it.

Martin went back over to his chair and sat down with Edward, setting the puppy onto his desk, watching him shake himself and turn to pant in his face, giving his face a good couple of slobbery kisses. Oh yes, this was going to be a brilliant Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been looking forward to writing this chapter, how could I not be excited about puppies? Can anyone tell I really missed Edward the Dog? I couldn't stop thinking about them having him from a puppy, and Martin being the one to name him. It just made me really happy. Since it took me longer than I wanted, I ended up making it almost twice as long as the other chapters, so oops!


End file.
